seizeyourwings

To you: I started going through my papers and other things last night. You know, deciding what to put in storage and what to take with me when I move. After sifting through endless amounts of Organic Chemistry and Botany notes, I came accross a small pile of folded up papers at the bottom of one of the bins I was sifting through. Upon seeing them, my stomach lurched ever so slightly. I put them there in the middle of January, and haven't seen them since. I'd forgotten what your handwriting looked like, just like I've forgotten your mannerisms and touch. I read each one, and there was only one thing I felt: nostalgia. No anger, no sadness. Just reminded of little things that had long since disappeared from memory. Like that time a year ago when I put ice-cold soy sauce on your chaffed thigh after our little argument. I had forgotten some of our bubbyspeak, and the names we used to call each other. About 14 months ago we went camping near Colorado Springs. It was exactly a year ago, I think, that I got on the plane back to Denver from JFK. And it's only a few more months before the one year anniversary of when I got that terrible gut feeling, the one that wouldn't go away, the one that started it. And people might call me weird for it, but I think that us separating was best for both of us. I, for one, was too blinded by love to foresee some huge bumps in the road. And no, it's not just because of you; I'm not calling anyone a bad person. We were just incompatible in the long run, I think. Nothing bad or condescending or scathing: that's just the reality of it. I haven't seen you in nearly 9 months. I haven't contacted you or heard from you in 8. In all honesty, it's probably better that way. I'm assuming that means you're happy and well: pursuing your post-bacc and probably looking into medical schools right now. (I hope you have a better time in Organic Chem than I did)! I no longer think it would tear me apart or even affect me at all to talk to you, but I have no reason to revive past experiences. I learned what I was supposed to learn, and I grew a lot when I was with you. I finished school on time because I was pushing myself so I could move in with you. You taught me how to drive a manual (my current car is a manual, by the way). I learned to be confident with who I am (which is part of why I finally got my septum pierced) and to stand up for myself. A lot of good came out of those 2 years. But that's what they are: 2 years of my past. I do all that I can to live in the present and look toward the future. You don't know me anymore, and I don't know you. That's just the way of things. I remembered that the brown blanket and the picture you gave me for my birthday that one year are in the garage, and the letters and the pictures and the movie tickets are now back in the bottom of the box. It doesn't hurt to see them anymore. It doesn't really feel like anything. That's how I know I've healed, and that you and I are completely in my past now. -Me

I promise you can do it. Two months will turn into four...and then eight...and everything will fade.

6 months, give or take. Late nights are really the only time it aches anymore, and it only aches. Never the stabbing pain like it used to be. Just a dull pressure, a faint hurt. And only because insomnia brings up stuff I wouldn't think about otherwise. Do you ever think about me? Do you ever want me to talk to you? Sometimes I dream that I'm on your campus, and you see me, but you just walk on by. Oh well. Don't look back, the past is just that. Like I said the last time I ever spoke to you: "From now on, you don't exist to me, and I don't exist to you." Everything fades with time.

6 months, give or take. Late nights are really the only time it aches anymore, and it only aches. Never the stabbing pain like it used to be. Just a dull pressure, a faint hurt. And only because insomnia brings up stuff I wouldn't think about otherwise. Do you ever think about me? Do you ever want me to talk to you? Oh well. Don't look back, the past is just that. I promise you all: it does get better.

Remember that place you and I drove to 2 years ago? The one near Larkspur with the blue phone light that blinked on and off? The same one we returned to on Valentine's 09, where I peed like a racehorse and found rice in my pants from the Chipotle burrito? I went back there last night for the first time in almost a year and a half. Me, Nick (just met him last night, and he's from NYC, surprise surprise), and our friend Jack Daniels. Started off taking long exposures with a thunderstorm and a train in the background. Sat on the gravel watching The Royal Tenenbaums, trading swigs from the bottle, and getting fabulously drunk on brisk night air, good company, and alcohol. Then we stumbled down the trail for a good mile or so, got our shoes stuck in the mud, and sat down on the dirt listening and singing along to Sigur Ros and Death Cab for a good 20 minutes. ("I need you so much closer...."). It was quite breezy, and being without proper clothes we decided to return to the car. Both of us were freezing, so we dozed off whilst huddled in each others arms for warmth. Not one part of it was sad or bittersweet. I haven't said a word or heard from you in 5 months. Life is beautiful.

You e-mailed. You said you weren't expecting a reply, but that you would love to be my friend. There will be no replies; I'm not even tempted. We just weren't right. I've started the rest of my life. There is no hate, there is no blame. There is only healing and learning to be happy. I've started that.

Sometimes relationships run their course. You are no longer there for me, and I get the feeling that you don't want me to be there for you. I will do all that is in my power to heal, and to keep from contacting you again.

Why won't you call, why won't you text? Part of me doesn't want you to, but part of me wants you to come back and for things to be how they were. Do I mean nothing to you?

I feel like I'll never find someone like that again, someone who knows me that well, who I love so much, who I can be so completely comfortable around. I feel like I won't find another best friend who's also my other half. I'm scared. I know it just comes with the breakup, but it's a horrible feeling.